


Draw Me Out

by TheBadIdeaBears



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Come Marking, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Draw Me Like One of Your French Girls, Drawing, Gags, Life Drawing, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Nude Modeling, Vibrators, mild exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 09:14:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14329278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBadIdeaBears/pseuds/TheBadIdeaBears
Summary: When Karma said he needed a life model as practice for his night classes, Nagisa was only too happy to offer, and after he had sat nude for Karma a few times he found that he enjoyed it... When Karma made the tentative idea of Nagisa being bound in some way the next time he sat for him, Nagisa countered by suggesting the addition of a gag and vibrator as well.





	Draw Me Out

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there, it's Pandora! For her birthday Holly asked me for a 'draw me like one of your French girls' type scene involving Karma and Nagisa and this is what I wrote for her. I really hope you all enjoy it! :)

Gentle classical music fills the room – Nagisa thinks it's Grieg or maybe Chopin; he vaguely recognises the melody. It's soothing, calming, completely at odds with his body and state of mind. His hands are clasped behind his head, wrists bound together by a length of soft red rope, and his elbows are pointed up at the ceiling, making his back arch and chest push forward. The hard wood floor presses mercilessly into his knees, spread wide while the vibrator inside him pulses only very slightly, almost more to remind him that it's there than for any other purpose.

The sound of Karma's footsteps joins the music again, slow and considered as he walks around Nagisa, coming back into Nagisa's field of vision. Nagisa lifts his head, looking up into Karma's face, a shiver going through him when Karma doesn't meet his gaze, instead looking at him with vague interest, like he's a piece of furniture or art. Well, the latter is half true at this point. Karma stops slightly off to one side, turning a page in his sketchbook and starting to draw his pencil over the paper. The rough scratch of it fades to a quiet stroke and Nagisa longs to feel Karma's fingers stroking over his skin. He can't even say as much to Karma, can't beg for him to touch him or change the vibration or anything: a spider gag frames the inside of his lips and spreads over his face to display the inside of his mouth. Little chains hanging from it attach to clamps on his nipples, pulling occasionally when Karma gets him to move his head for a new drawing.

Nagisa can't say this wasn't his idea – at least not somewhat. When Karma said he needed a life model as practice for his night classes, Nagisa was only too happy to offer, and after he had sat nude for Karma a few times he found that he enjoyed it. The feeling of Karma looking at him so carefully gave Nagisa goosebumps, so when Karma made the tentative idea of Nagisa being bound in some way the next time he sat for him, Nagisa countered by suggesting the addition of a gag and vibrator as well. Karma's face coloured almost to the same shade as his hair and Nagisa felt a blaze of pride at having elicited such a reaction.

Karma has already come: he held Nagisa's hair and fucked his open mouth before pulling out and spilling his release over Nagisa's chin and chest where it's now mostly dried. Nagisa feels marked, owned, especially when Karma runs a silent, pleased gaze over it.

“Turn your head,” says Karma softly. “To the right, away from me.”

Nagisa silently follows orders, movements slow owing to his bindings and the gag. The clamp on his left nipple pulls just slightly and he lets out a soft squeak at the sensation.

“I believe I told you to be quiet,” Karma says. Nagisa automatically tries to close his mouth, but the gag keeps his lips open and he tries his best to keep as still as possible while Karma continues with his current sketch.

While his face it turned away from Karma, Nagisa takes the opportunity to shut his eyes. The darkness behind his lids helps ground him a little, lets him give into the feelings coursing through his body and exist inside them rather than trying to fight against them. He can feel himself sinking into that space where he's completely under Karma's thrall, like sinking into a hot bath. He sighs quietly, letting his body take over from his mind, letting it support him.

The music changes – Karma set it up so that the tracks would fade into one another to minimise silence but Nagisa can hear the change all the same – and soon after Karma's footsteps join the sound again. He steps around Nagisa, who doesn't open his eyes yet, instead taking in and releasing a slow breath before his eyelids flutter open again. Karma stands right in front of him, legs relaxed but Nagisa can't see any more of him without...

“Look up at me,” says Karma. Nagisa starts to lift his head but Karma adds, “No, keep your chin level, just with your eyes.”

Nagisa does as he's told, looking up at Karma from under his lashes. Anyone else would miss it, but Nagisa catches a little spark of a flash behind Karma's sharp eyes before he goes back to his sketchbook. The brief moment of eye contact sends a shiver down Nagisa's spine but he keeps his gaze resolutely up, watching Karma draw him. He breathes slowly, moving his fingers a little to make sure his circulation. Despite it all, Nagisa thinks he's beginning to get used to the sensations, from the constant pull on his shoulders to the clamps on his nipples and the light vibration in his backside.

But then he watches Karma's hand move to his back pocket and suddenly the vibrations get stronger. He yelps in surprise, body jerking.

“Keep still,” says Karma. His voice is detached as his pencil moves across the paper and his gaze still roams over Nagisa's body without reaching his face. Nagisa takes another deep breath in through his nose, slowly letting it go again as he does his best to still his body. A soft whimper escapes his throat, the sound breathless. “Shush.”

Nagisa breathes shakily; it's almost impossible not to vocalise every breath with his lips splayed open as they are and he knows this is exactly the challenge Karma wanted to give him. He keeps his gaze trained on his lover's face, watching Karma's eyes flick over his body as he continues the sketch. Like before, Nagisa wills himself to get accustomed to the feelings taking over his body, breathing slowly as he can and throat working to try and keep his saliva situation under control. It works... for a bit. Things change when Karma finally meets Nagisa's eyes with his own again and a slick grin twists its way onto his face.

“What a sight,” Karma murmurs, turning the page and moving around Nagisa a little so that he stands face on to his torso. Having not been told to move his head, Nagisa keeps it turned to the right, trying to watch Karma out of the corner of his eye. “I think I like you like this – bound and desperate. On your knees. Just look at your face – so exquisite and so wrecked.”

Of course, Nagisa _can't_ see his own face, but he knows Karma is telling the truth – he can feel it in the stretch of his lips and the way his eyes keep glazing with tears. Karma's pencil is already travelling over the paper again, but his words continue, sending further sparks through Nagisa's nerves.

“I wonder if everyone would like to see you like this.” Karma's voice is smooth, entirely unaffected, as he draws. “The great thing is I could show them. I could put all these pictures on display for everyone to see what a little slut you are and what a mess you've made of yourself.”

Nagisa lets out a quivery moan, unable to hold it in, squeezing involuntarily around the vibrator and moaning afresh. Despite himself, the mental picture Karma paints brings a flush to Nagisa's cheeks: to be on display like that, bare and vulnerable in front of others, would be utterly humiliating, and if he could get harder at the idea he knows he would. The drool in his mouth increases tenfold and he swallows desperately, trying to regain control even as Karma keeps talking in that low voice.

“Are you struggling?” Karma still sounds detached, almost like he doesn't care about the answer. Nagisa goes to shake his head, but Karma stops him with a curt, “Don't move.”

With another shuddery breath, Nagisa stills himself once more and listens to the continued sound of Karma's pencil over the paper and the gentle piano music. He wonders, partly to keep himself from getting overwhelmed again, what Karma is drawing. Obviously it's him – that's the whole point of this – but what exactly is Karma drawing right now? Is he drawing Nagisa's face, tear-streaked and burning? Maybe he's drawing the chains leading down to the nipple clamps? Or perhaps he's drawing Nagisa's cock, jutting out hard and leaking between his widely-spread thighs? The last thought almost makes Nagisa shake again, but he manages to keep still and silent as Karma's movements slow as he looks up.

“Turn your head towards me.”

As Nagisa turns his head and meets Karma's gaze, he feels a jolt in his stomach: Karma's gaze is electric and the air between them practically crackles, sizzling hot. Karma surveys Nagisa again, from the gag holding open his mouth to the cum still on his chin and chest. Another smirk pulls at the corner of Karma's lips and he turns the page in his sketchbook.

“Lower your chin.”

Nagisa's eyes grow wide. So far he's been able to keep some control over the drool collecting in his mouth thanks to the angle of his head, but if he drops his chin, gravity will no longer be on his side. And _of course_ Karma knows that; the smirk still playing about his lips tells Nagisa everything (including the fact that Karma probably waited until now to give the order deliberately) and that electric charge still buzzes between them.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” asks Karma. His tone is dangerous and Nagisa knows he won't hesitate to drag this out for even longer.

Slowly, trying to throw off his hesitancy, Nagisa follows the order. The saliva that's been collecting under his tongue and in his cheeks flows down, escaping his pulled-open lips and soaking down his chin, soon dripping onto his chest. Fresh tears of humiliation prick at Nagisa's eyes, joining the rest of the mess on his skin. Above him, Karma makes a pleased sound and starts drawing again.

“Such a dirty little slut, covered in your own drool,” he murmurs, almost to himself, to the sketchbook in his hands or the pencil he's holding. “What a mess you're making. Maybe I should punish you.”

Nagisa's breath hitches – it's all the encouragement Karma needs apparently, as a few seconds later the vibrator buzzes harder again and Nagisa twitches, the chains jingling on his chest as the new vibrations roll through his body, and fights a losing battle against the flurry of moans that spill from his mouth along with more spit.

“Still making a mess I see,” sighs Karma. He almost sounds like he might tut in disapproval. “And so _loud_.”

Nagisa squeezes his fists and tries to choke back fresh tears and groans, turning them instead into a low, soft whine. His body trembles all over and he tries to stay still, even before Karma quietly repeats the order to do so. There's a little edge to Karma's voice when he speaks, a waver like he's getting tired, and Nagisa doesn't blame him. Saliva dribbles further down Nagisa's front, some trailing down to his pelvis and the floor, and even deep breaths do nothing to dry his mouth out at this point. Part of him is vaguely aware that the vibrator has another higher setting and there's a sense of trepidation mixed in with all the other feelings overflowing from him.

“I think I'll move on to fast sketches,” says Karma when his pencil stops again.

Nagisa stays as still as he can (though still shivering minutely all over) with his head bowed and drool slowly spattering himself and the floor. The paper rustle of Karma turning another page in his sketchbook sounds again, followed by a short beat of silence and Nagisa doesn't realise how much he's managed to relax until the vibrator kicks up into the highest gear and he jerks bolt upright, crying out in surprise and pleasure. He's expecting to be told to keep still and quiet down, but Karma doesn't say anything. Still, Nagisa fights the urge to thrash and writhe and manages to keep his movements to an all-over shake and stares at the floor; his thighs tremble, knees pressing hard into the floor and hips almost aching with how wide he's been sitting. Above him, he can hear Karma drawing again, pencil moving rapidly over the paper.

“What a sight you are,” he says, voice a low growl that makes Nagisa squirm all over again. “What a filthy little slut. I bet you'd love to come all over yourself and make even more of a mess.”

Nagisa pants, staccato moans and whimpers interrupting his breaths.

“Look at me,” instructs Karma.

When Nagisa does, he can't keep in another groan: it slides straight off his wet tongue, desperate and needy, full of spit. He only realises he's shuddering when he hears the chains jingling again, but with the frantic arousal racing through his body he finds he can't keep himself still any longer, nor can he hold back his voice. Above him, Karma draws hurriedly, hand moving rapidly over the page and eyes darting between it and Nagisa, but still not telling him to keep still and quiet. With every sharp buzz of the vibrator, Nagisa can feel his control leaving him and his cock twitches, aching to be touched. His back arches irresistibly, a high moan leaving him.

“Getting desperate, slut?” asks Karma, smirking down at Nagisa again as he carries on drawing. In response, Nagisa can only sob, the sound full of urgency. “Can't wait to draw your face as you come. Maybe I'll show it to everyone, let them see what a little whore you are.”

Nagisa's eyes squeeze shut, more tears of arousal rolling down his cheeks. He grinds his hips down a little, the movement thoughtless, and squeals again when the vibrator nudges his prostate, making stars burst behind his closed eyelids.

“Look at me,” Karma says again. Nagisa forces his eyes open, grinding down as his hazy gaze meets Karma's blazing one, and another short chorus of moans leaves him. “So fucking gorgeous, fucking yourself on a vibrator just for me.” When Nagisa rolls his hips once more, he whines loudly, feeling himself approaching his end. “How desperate you are, making such a spectacle of yourself. Are you going to come for me?”

Nagisa clenches the muscles in his backside and grinds down, barely having time to nod before his blood reaches fever pitch and he screams out of the gag, his orgasm ripping through him like an erupting volcano. He keeps his eyes open somehow, wanting to watch Karma, whose hands are moving quickly to capture Nagisa in the throes of ecstasy, overwhelmed. Release is glorious and agonising before Nagisa slumps in his bonds, breathing hard and twitching from overstimulation. A moment later, the vibrations stop and Nagisa shudders. In the comparative quiet, he listens to his own breathing and Karma's pencil passing over the page again, making one last sketch – as Karma explained he would before they started. He doesn't take long – he promised he wouldn't – and soon after he kneels before Nagisa, hands going straight to the straps of the gag to undo and gently remove it. Nagisa slowly closes and opens his mouth, only half able to feel his lips as Karma opens the nipple clamps and puts the whole structure on the floor. Behind Nagisa's head, Karma works the rope open before gently guiding Nagisa's arms down to his sides.

“You okay babe?” he asks softly, holding Nagisa's hands in his own. Nagisa nods, unable to trust his loose lips and tongue to convey any words at all – Karma smiles tenderly all the same. “Tired?” Nagisa nods again. “I'll get you sorted, give me a sec...”

He kisses the backs of Nagisa's hands and pulls him close, lifting Nagisa against his chest onto trembling knees before reaching back and slowly pulling the vibrator out of him. A soft whimper leaves Nagisa at the feeling of emptiness, but another kiss, this time to his damp cheek, helps ground him again, and when Karma pulls back once more Nagisa gives him a little smile.

“I love you so much,” Karma says, kissing the tip of his nose. “I'll run you a bath. Want me to carry you?”

Nagisa nods again and Karma gets up. Casting his gaze downward, Nagisa sees the state of the floor: the floorboards are spattered with cum, spit and tears, and he feels a little pang at the mess before Karma leans down, putting his arms under Nagisa to lift him.

“I'll clean it up once you're in the bath,” assures Karma, princess-carrying Nagisa through their flat to the bathroom, perching him on the edge of the bath before turning on the tap. With the tub filling, Karma adds a generous amount of bubble bath and leans down, cupping Nagisa's chin up and touching their noses together.

“You were wonderful,” Karma says softly, a grin spreading across his face.

“So were you,” whispers Nagisa, reaching up and taking hold of Karma's wrists as he meets his gaze. “Thank you.”

“Thank _you_ ,” smiles Karma. “I got some great sketches.”

Nagisa feels his cheeks flush a little despite everything. “Are you really going to show them to people?”

Karma shakes his head. “Only if you really want me to. I definitely couldn't take them to class with all the old dears there – they might get heart attacks.”

Nagisa's quiet answering laugh is almost covered by the sound of running water. “Probably a bad idea.”

Soon, Nagisa slips into the hot water, the smell and warmth helping to relax his muscles soak the sweat from his skin. As promised, after ascertaining that Nagisa is comfortable and unlikely to collapse, Karma vanishes for a few minutes to clean and tidy the living room before coming back to sit with Nagisa while the latter bathes. The marks on Nagisa's wrists – redder than he expected them to be; he figures he must have pulled on them unintentionally hard – fade slowly in the hot water, and Karma runs a soft flannel over Nagisa's skin to make sure everything is cleaned off him properly.

“Thanks again,” says Karma, “for posing for me. I really enjoyed it.”

Nagisa leans forward, capturing Karma's lips in a kiss before grinning. “I did too.”

“So you'd be willing to pose for me again?”

Nagisa nods. “Always.”

 


End file.
